Precious Girl
by rosesaregreen
Summary: Fitz and Olivia dream of their precious daughter. The girl they wanted so desperately but could never have. A three chapter story on their road from tragedy to happiness (o:
1. Precious Girl

"She has to have your hair." Olivia nestled closer into Fitz's chest and smiled. They were standing on the balcony overlooking the backyard of their home. It was a peaceful afternoon: the sun was high in the middle of the sky, a few unthreatening clouds dotted the sky with a breeze whirling around them in pleasant silence. The day gave her the energy to pull on a sundress, a welcome change from the sweats she had been living in for the past few days. It was perfection.

"My hair is a pain in the ass."

"_Your_ hair is a pain in the ass?" She retorted. He chuckled softly.

"Touche. Fine. She can have my messy curls. But she has to have your eyes. God, I love your eyes." She turned to face him and he gazed into the extreme roundness of her chocolate irises.

"My eyes are so boring. I love how one day your eyes are grey, but the next hour they are this majestic blue."

"Your eyes are so expressive. I want her to be just like her mother, straightforward and blunt. With a simple look."

"Fine. Your hair. My eyes. What is left to decide?"

"Personality."

"Hmmm…well, she will be intelligent, just like her mother. Witty and passionate like me."

"I want her to have your pure spirit. That ability to always see the positive in everything. That is what I love most about you." FItz brought his lips to her temple. There were no words to describe how much he loved every flaw and perfection of this woman.

"She has to be tough like you. I want her to be able to take on the obstacles the universe has to throw at her without breaking a sweat." They stood in silence, the soft breeze sifting through the trees and touching them gently. The perfection of the setting made Olivia slightly uncomfortable considering the circumstances. Everything was far from perfect. Three days ago, maybe. But today?

Oh, definitely not today.

"Emilia." Fitz's said in a whisper, his voice shaking with the breeze. "Sweet, sweet Emilia." Olivia shut her eyes tight to stop the tears from slipping through. She had spent the past seventy-two hours weeping. Seventy-two hours of encompassing herself in sadness and solitude. He was strong for her, allowed her to mourn outwardly and completely. But he was suffering in strong silence. He was bound to crack eventually. She knew it was his turn, which is why she didn't stop him when he brought up their precious girl. He had to torture himself to get it out of his system. With each description his wall cracked a little more. The four syllable name was the final blow.

The wet carnation of his sorrow reached her bare shoulder and she felt weak. She kept her stance strong; it was his turn to break down. She was doing alright supporting his weight as he leaned into her from behind, his head draped on her right shoulder. It was when he moved his hands from her shoulders and down to her flattening stomach that it all came undone.

Three days ago a small bump rested where it was now flat. Three days ago she was a reality. Four months into a blissful future of first steps, soccer practices and recitals and sick days. Five months away from those tiny hands grabbing onto their thumbs tightly, never to let go. A love they would never know.

They fell to the ground of that balcony, holding onto each other as tight as those tiny fingers would have, crying for that precious girl. The perfect breeze came over them again.

The breath of the perfect girl they would never know.


	2. Fighters

Olivia felt nauseous. It wasn't just a physical feeling either, but emotional exhaustion. She didn't know she was capable of peeing so much in a short amount of time. Six sticks were laid across the bathroom marble countertop with three more yet to be tested.

Six in a neat little row.

Six little blue pluses.

Six little reassurances.

Six little daggers into her finally recovered heart.

It had been a year and a half since they had lost their precious girl. Things were finally back into the swing of normalcy. The first six months were the worst, the dynamic of their relationship shifting completely. The day after their collective meltdown, Fitz attempted to paint the nursey a bleak creme. The bright spring lilac shade vanished beneath his brush. Olivia watched from the doorway, tears falling quietly. The room was basically bare but when he reached the large pale pink "E" to represent the girl's domain, he could not bring himself to cover it. He simply put the brush down and walked out the room. The dried paint can and crusty brush would lay dormant for months. They began to avoid each other whenever possible after this. Each held blame on their tongues but neither wanted to let the burning hate slip.

Olivia threw herself into work, most nights not returning home until well after midnight. Fitz never worried about there being another, her crisis management firm was the only thing she could love more than him. Well, that and the child they lost. Fitz worked steadily at his law firm but always made time to get home at a decent hour. He made sure to allow himself time to suffer in the silence of the home they built; the home that was meant for the echoes of laughter and _living_ was now destined for lost dreams and silence. Just Fitz and his collection of vintage scotch. Olivia would come home to him passed out on the couch or floor, glass not too far away. She didn't remember how to care for him, how to run her fingers through his curls and calm him. She would just stare for a few moments then walk away. That was their life.

One night her team forced her out the office at six. They told her to go home and be with the man she loved. They had no idea that Olivia loved nothing anymore. She was incapable of love; that privilege melted out of her on that peaceful spring evening. So, she reluctantly went home, her nerves on edge. The couple hadn't spent sober facetime together in months. He was standing on the balcony to their bedroom when she arrived. His first drink of the night was waiting for him on the dresser. He was surprised when she stood next to him. They stood in silence, unsure of what to say.

He went for his drink.

She stopped him.

The yelling began.

_"You don't know what I need!"_

_"I know you don't need to drink that! You have been drinking yourself into oblivion! You're always passed out!"_

_"And you work all the damn time! I never see you! You just leave me here to wallow in pity. Alone. This happened to both of us! You don't get to just leave!" _

_"You are killing yourself!"_

_"Maybe thats what I want! I don't want to live in a world where she isn't!"_

Hearing her husband say that he welcomed death broke her heart. She thought her ability to love was gone, but seeing this man shattered and at his end made her want to fight. For months they couldn't figure out what happened to their love and now it was clear: they stopped fighting for each other. A love based on a refusal to let circumstances keep them apart. They were rejecting what they were bred for and it broke them. They yelled for two days, months of pent up frustration and hurt finally being released. When it was all gone and they stood tired and panting, they knew they had found their way back. As their lips crashed together and they made love it all felt like the first time. The next day they bought a can of paint and entered the room overshadowed with misery. They painted over the finally physical memory of precious Emilia. Together they could do anything. They could be Olivia and Fitz again.

As she thought about their road back together she had to lean over the sink for safety, just in case she couldn't hold her lunch down. She was so confused; elation with a touch of immense fear. Could they do this again? Could they become detached from the growing being inside her? That kind of agony could not be survived twice.

"Liv?" Her lover called from the hallway. She needed to clean up, but the sound of his voice made her lose concentration which forced her asian zing salad come up. "Honey, are you alright?" The door opened and there he was. She wiped her mouth and watched him. His eyes traveled from the line of sticks one by one. She studied him searching for a tell in his stolid face. His lack of response scared her. What if he didn't want this?

He closed the space between them then lifted her onto the counter.

"Fitz—"

"Hush." He unbuttoned her white button down then threw it to the floor. He then grabbed the mouthwash pouring her the shot and handing it to her. She swished it around silently, thankful to have the dirty taste evaporate from her mouth. He handed her the trash can where she emptied the mouthwash from her mouth. Now he just stood there, watching her, his eyes soft and caring. Finally, he moved in and rested his cheek on her belly, a contented sigh leaving him. She felt so much relief. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled.

"This is happening." He whispered.

"I guess so." He kissed her head and held her close to his chest. "Fitz, I'm scared."

"Hey! Everything is going to be alright. We are going to be alright. We are fighters. We fought for this. We are going to be just fine." She held onto him tight, holding onto his every word.

He was right.

They fought their way back to each other and damn the world if it tried to take love away from them again.


	3. Majesty

Fitz watched her as she slept, his mind still too restless from the day. Olivia was so beautiful when she slept, the complete relaxation of her body a view he rarely sees from her when she was awake. Her lips seemed to be rested in a smirk, happiness surging through her as she dreamed of the future.

He watched the small bump and so badly wanted to rest his hands there. He was still nervous even though the day had ended. He still felt that if he so much as touched her, everything would melt away. A few hours ago the exact day had passed. Fitz climbed out of bed and grabbed his journal from the bookshelf. He wrote in it everyday, recording the milestones and thoughts of the pregnancy. He had read today's musings almost six times already, but he just couldn't stop. This was the day. Day one hundred and twelve.

_I had to coax mommy out of bed today, letting her know that everything would be fine. She didn't want to risk it. She would lay still the entire day if it meant keeping you safe. See, this exact point almost two years ago when mommy was pregnant with your big sister, something went wrong. It was a normal day, a beautiful one at that, and everything seemed fine. We both went to work, came home and had dinner, watched tv together, talked about your big sister. Mommy started to feel sick and went to bed early. I was cleaning the dishes when I heard a loud thud from upstairs. The scene was a traumatizing one that I don't think I can go into detail on. Your mom passed out on the floor, your big sister making her grand entrance months too soon. It was day one hundred and twelve that we lost her, and now, it is day one hundred and twelve for you. _

_I kept my eyes on you both all day, the nerves never easing. Mommy did everything so slow and calculated, making sure not to exert herself. We both knew that you would be fine, baby girl, but we just couldn't shake that eery feeling. Your mom isn't the type to just sit around, no matter how hard she wanted to, so she went to paint your room much to my protest. I sat in the living room listening to her sweet voice hum lullabies and soft tunes. It was easing me a bit, hearing her let go and enjoy another day with your presence. But then it came. That thud again. I was at the doorway in seconds. There she was, paint brush on the floor, holding your resting place and shock on her face. The fear I felt that it was all happening again nearly crippled me. We tried so hard not to get lost in the dream that was you like we did before, but how could we not? You are our baby girl, it was impossible not to get lost in the majesty that is you. Mommy took small calculated steps to me, my strength fading as she got closer. I was expecting her to collapse in my arms, but she took my right hand and placed it on her belly. I was so confused but there it was; there you were. The soft and quick flutter of your movement caught me off guard, but when you moved again and again I knew. You were letting us know you were here and not going anywhere. You changed day one hundred and twelve from a day of fear into a day of celebration. Sweet baby girl, you changed everything._

"Fitz?" Olivia called him as he placed the journal back on the shelf.

"Hmm?"

"Come back." He crawled next to her, her back resting on his chest. Without a second thought he placed his hands on that small bump, a sweet flutter welcoming his touch. They had no reason to be afraid. Day one hundred and twelve was now one hundred and thirteen. The days would continue to fly by and soon their baby girl would be in their arms. The baby girl wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

"You can do this, champ! You're almost there!" Fitz was cheering her on and she wasn't having any of it. The epidural had eased the pain but her entire body still ached from the child inside her making her escape. Olivia leaned into her husband, her head falling over his shoulder as she cried out in pain from another attempt.

"Just a few more, champ." Olivia wanted to punch the living shit out of him but squeezing the blood flow out of his hands would suffice. His free hand was rubbing circles into her back which she couldn't deny soothed her a bit. The doctors were not pleased that he climbed into the bed with her, but he was not leaving her. They were in this together and he needed to be as close to her as possible.

"One last push, Mrs. Grant! Here we go! One…two…" Olivia gave it her all, the last ounce of energy she had in her arsenal. Her need to hold that girl in her arms, the one that had taken sanctuary inside her for nine whirlwind months. The girl who survived. Olivia felt the sudden emptiness and knew her child was taking her first breaths of fresh oxygen. She was elated in spite of her desire to close her eyes and sleep.

"Whats going on?" Fitz asked the doctors. The fear in his voice shocked her back to full alert. She suddenly noticed the silence in the room. Her ears should be filled with the wails of her baby girl. She sat up and watched in horror as the doctors all huddled around their girl. This couldn't be…  
Suddenly she let out a screech so loud it shocked everyone in the room. The new parents melted into each other. She was here.

She was finally here.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky as afternoon dawned over the family. Not a cloud was in the sky and the breeze brought relief due to the hot summer air. Olivia watched as the man of her life spun her baby girl in the air. Leila's laughter warmed her heart in a way she could not explain. Leila was so much greater than what they ever imagined: she inherited the rowdy curls of her father but they were tinted dark brown like her mother, her large round eyes were that encompassing blue speckled with hints of brown, her mother's full lips accentuated her father's broad smile and her honey skin. The countless nights of staying up and creating the image of their daughter did her no justice; they could never imagine something so beyond perfection. Leila brightened their lives like the sun, her presence making anything below happiness impossible.

Olivia placed a kiss on her daughters cheek then met her husband's lips. A small giggle escaped the baby girl causing the parents to smile with pride. The perfection of the day made Olivia's heart float inside of her chest. There had been so many dark times in their lives where this perfection was not warranted, but today?

It was certainly welcomed today.


End file.
